Tribulations and Vexations
by Tri Lorian
Summary: Arthur suffers... LOL {Complete}


A blood-curdling scream reached Lancelot's ears as he was about three feet away from the room he had just left, rooting him to the spot. The scream was surpassed by the loud sounds of heavy furniture crashing to the floor, followed by the ear-splitting noise of breaking pottery.

The sudden silence when the noise died down snapped Lancelot out of his stupor. His hands went up over his head, drawing his swords from the scabbards on his back, uncertain of what was threatening Arthur, as he ran back to the door he had just closed. He stormed back into Arthur's quarters, prepared to defend him to his death.

A flow of Latin curses greeted the dark knight, a rare sound coming from the Roman.

Lancelot was rooted to the spot once more as he took in the sight before him. Arthur was sitting on the floor, his face distorted in pain, clasping his right foot tightly between his two hands. One of the heavy wooden chairs was lying on its side next to his best friend. Shards of pottery, which only minutes before had been a wash basin, were shattered around, droplets and puddles of water everywhere as well. Arthur's table had moved several feet from its normal spot, stacks of paper dangling over the edge of the table precariously.

A big grin appeared on Lancelot's face as he realized what had happened. Arthur had stubbed his foot against the table, tried to grasp the chair for support, which had gone down with the Roman as he fell against the table, knocking off the wash basin.

"Get that grin of your face! This is not funny, not funny at all!" Arthur snapped at Lancelot, very uncharacteristic as well. His head banged against the table as he glared at the Sarmatian, upsetting the delicate balance of the stacks of paper on top of the table. Like an avalanche, the papers started to slide down slowly at first, picking up speed fast, fluttering everywhere, landing on to the floor and into Arthur's lap.

Lancelot did his best to hide his smile, but failed miserably. "Do you want me to get the healer?" Lancelot teased.

"Yes!" Arthur yelled.

Lancelot fled the room, unable to suppress his laughter any longer, sensing it might be better to avoid the other man for just a short while.

–– 8 ––

Flavius managed to keep a straight face as he examined Arthur's foot. Lancelot had described the situation vividly on their way to Arthur's quarters, causing the grey haired Roman healer to chuckle as well, but on reaching the commander's room he had quickly stifled his laughter.

"And? Will he live?" Lancelot asked, his voice ringing with amusement, as he watched the small healer performing his job, sitting relaxed in the chair that he had picked up from the floor.

Arthur sent a glare in his direction that would have send bigger men running.

"Yes, he will live," Flavius replied, a tinge of laughter coming through in his voice. "He won't be going anywhere far for quite a while though."

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked in bewilderment.

"Your big toe is broken and quite badly swollen already. I don't think you'll be able to get your boots on for quite some time," Flavius answered in a serious tone.

Arthur groaned out loud. "I have places to go. Meetings. Patrols. Guests to attend to. Villages to protect. I can't stay in here for any length of time!"

"The meetings and guests shouldn't be a problem. With the aid of a walking stick, you'll probably be able to walk around soon enough again. But patrolling is out of the question. You are going to have to hand over command to Lancelot, I guess. For a while at least."

Arthur looked from Flavius to Lancelot and back to Flavius again, a look of utter disbelief on his face.

Lancelot chuckled softly. "The feared Artorius Castus, commander of the Sarmatian knights, defeated by a harmless table!"

Arthur glared at the dark knight once more, as Lancelot was enjoying his stupidity all too much to his annoyance. "It hurts, you know!" Arthur almost yelled, sounding like a petulant child instead of a Roman commander, which only served to make Lancelot laugh harder.

–– 8 ––

The next two weeks were the hardest Arthur had ever to endure. The pain in his toe was tolerable, but the relentless and merciless teasing of his knights wasn't. He had threatened them with punishments, harsher and crueler than he had ever thought himself capable of coming up with, but the Sarmatians would just walk out off his room doubled over in laughter. The pitiful and amused looks from his guests and from the people he had to meet with, as they took in the Roman commander before them, a boot at his left foot, his right foot bare, only added to his great suffering.


End file.
